Hit the Ground Running
by iSmish
Summary: Will finds himself outside Hannibal Lecter's practise one night, tired and disorientated. As the days progress, he finds himself loosing himself more and more. Is Hannibal helping Will or helping himself?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! :D  
This is my first fanfic I've ever decently written and my first posted to . Please be kind to me and make sure to tell me what you think. R&R's are extremely welcome. This probably will turn into a Hannigram fanfic, so all those who aren't boy/boy fans, BEWARE!  
I should have the next chapter up in a few days. In the mean time, enjoy the first!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Hannibal or Red Dragon. If I did, there would be a lot more smut.**

_I know I'll never trust a single thing you say  
You knew your lies would divide us_  
_But you lied anyway_  
_And all the lies have got you floating_  
_Up above us all_  
_But what goes up has got to fall_

**_- Hit the Floor - Linkin Park_**

It was perhaps a blast of bone chilling air, the cry of some nearby animal or the obnoxious honk of a passing car that had Will Graham jerking from his sleep. None of the sounds around him he would normally associate with his quaint little home in Wolf Trap and it took but a minute for him to realise that he was not in his bed. Or in his house. Confusion quickly turned to panic. He was used to his occasional night wanderings but never had he gone this far. The lapse in time had him slightly disorientated. It could not have been more than a few hours since he had fallen asleep, his dogs coiled up on the floor beside his bed.

The suddenly bright lights of an approaching car made the empath jerk slightly. It was enough to fully snap him from his stupor and to make him realise that he was clad in naught but what he had gone to bed in; a thin, faded shirt and boxer briefs. The bitter wind nipped at his exposed flesh and he wrapped both arms around himself. The question of what to do now popped into Will's mind. He had no money, no phone and from what he thought, no idea where he was. The more he looked however, the more he seemed to recognise and it was with a breathy exhale that he finally gazed at the two story building before him. It was beautiful, rustic and so deliciously familiar. He was at Hannibal's office. Why his body had chosen to lead him here of all places, he did not know, nor did he care. He wasted no time in crossing the road and approaching the building. It couldn't have been too late for the downstairs windows were brightly illuminated with a warm, would be welcoming light. That meant that the doctor was probably still there.

Clinging firmly to that hope, Will quickly crossed the road and gingerly moved up the stairs of the building. His feet ached and he didn't have to look at his soles to know they were probably raw red. Next time he slept, he'd make sure to wear shoes. A pause and plaintive knock at the door was given before the young man drew back. Odd. Usually he would simply go in and wait in Hannibal's waiting room. What made this time so different? The fact that he was definitely unexpected and half naked probably had something to do with his nerves.

The opening of an inside door followed by footsteps made Will's heart flutter with tension and the click of the door unlocking made him take a step back.

"William. What are you doing here?" Hannibal seemed genuinely confused to see the younger male standing upon his door step. Sanguine eyes gazed Will up and down once. That was all it took to drink in the surprising and appealing sight before him. Not wanting to be rude though and deny Will the warmth he obviously needed, Hannibal stood back, an arm extending to welcome the profiler inside.

Will smiled thankfully at the man, eyes lingering briefly on his chin before stepping inside. A burst of warm air almost made him moan. He'd not realised how cold he'd actually been. The sudden change of such drastic temperatures caused his skin to erupt in goose bumps and start to quiver rather violently.

Hannibal shut the door, locked it once more, and then led his unofficial patient into his office. Will couldn't help but think of it like one of his normal appointments as he moved to his usual chair and sat down. Hannibal did the same but not before unbuttoning his jacket, shrugging it off and laying it over Will's trembling shoulders. Again a thankful smile was given and Hannibal couldn't help but notice the others unwillingness to talk. He was usually quiet, yes, but it was still common for Will to respond with a despondent quip.

Once the pair was comfortable, Hannibal begun a silent scrutiny of the empath. He'd never noticed it before but it did not surprise him, that Will was becoming quite thin. He was able to hide his slimming body under the loose clothes that he always wore, but now that he was nearly in the flesh, Hannibal could clearly see it. It was obvious to the doctor that his patient had not been eating properly. Along with the lack of sleep, it was already taking its toll on Will's body. His skin was pallid, dull blue eyes rimmed by bags. His dark curls were limp and his movements more lethargic. Yes. Will Graham was not healthy, both physically and mentally.

Hannibal's scrutiny went completely unnoticed by Will however, who was muttering softly to himself, eyes peering instead at the clock on the wall behind the doctor.

"It's 10.17 pm. I'm in Baltimore, Maryland. My name… is Will Graham."

"You've had another lapse in time" It was a question, not a statement.

Will looked up, his stormy eyes not meeting the doctors' gaze and instead lingering on the collar of his no doubt expensive shirt.

"Yes," He sighed and leaned forwards. Hands covered his clammy face and it took a moment for him to collect his thoughts once more. "I went to bed early. I wasn't feeling well. When I woke up, I was outside your office." He trailed off, and then softly laughed. It was all an act of course, a way to hide how desperately lost he was.

"You've never walked this far before, have you?" The question caught Will slightly off guard and he looked up, hands dropping back down to his lap.

"Unless you count ending up lost on the back streets of Wolf Trap, no." He replied. Ah, that had been a fun night.

Hannibal was silent as he rose from his seat and walked past Will, the start of a smirk tugging at the corners of his thin lips. The empaths eyes did not move from their lingering position on the chair Hannibal had previously inhabited and he listened to the soft clinking of what he would later find to be glasses. One was pushed into his hands by the good doctor and Will studied the amber liquid inside as Hannibal took his seat once more and crossed his long legs.

"Drink. You could use some warming up." The psychiatrist urged, lifting his own glass to his lips to first inhale the rich scent, and then take a sip. His refined palate burst with visible pleasure of the deep, oaky taste the scotch presented. Apparently Will did not share his appreciation, for when the doctor looked back up at the other, his glass was empty and clutched in his still shaking hand.

A fine brow rose, but Hannibal dismissed the act quickly.

Silence descended between the two, broken only by the ticking of the clock and Will's occasional fidgeting. Hannibal was the first one to move after he had finished his glass. He stood and slowly made his way towards his young patient. Reaching down, he would gently pry the glass from Will's slowly warming hands but not before purposefully stroking a long forefinger over the back of his hand as he pulled away. A cheap trick, but an effective one none the less. Will flinched and for the first time his eyes met the doctors but only as he walked away to clean both glasses and set them back with the rest.

Hannibal's feelings for Will certainly went beyond those of the usual doctor and patient relationship. 'Love' was not the word he would use. He held a high fondness and adoration for the troubled young man. There was a sexual as well as physical attraction. Even in his sometimes demented state, Will Graham was, in his own way, beautiful. And Hannibal often saw that. He despised the way Jack Crawford would treat the profiler, even going as far as to call him "fine china". Will was delicate in a way, yes, but it was a mental delicacy. Physically, he was quite capable and he proved this every time Jack would throw him head first into another Chesapeake Ripper case. That thought made Hannibal smile fully. Oh, the sweet irony of it all. He disliked Jack's willingness to throw Will into every gruesome case if it meant getting that one step closer to catching the Ripper, yet he secretly loved the way it would break Will down, effectively bending the young man to the cannibal's will.

A soft exhale of a sigh sounded around the quiet room and once finished with the glasses, Hannibal turned back to Will. Even from his position behind the man, he could tell that he was starting to drift off. It was little wonder. His body was no doubt exhausted to the brink of passing out and Hannibal made a simple decision then and there. He moved back to the profiler and kneeled, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. The man's eyes were closed.

"I am going to take you back to my home. You'll sleep there for the night."

Will's eyes fluttered open slightly and he opened his mouth to politely decline but Hannibal cut him off.

"Don't worry about your dogs. I'll drive out tomorrow morning, feed them and get you a change of clothes." His words were gentle, but firm as he stood erect once more. There was no way that Will could change his mind.

Blue grey eyes met dark ones and slowly, Will nodded. He knew that he would not win. Hannibal could be stubborn when he wanted to be and it was without another compliant that he allowed Hannibal to help him up and clutching the other man's jacket tightly around himself, follow him outside. The lights were turned off and the front door to the practice locked securely before Hannibal led Will to his car that was parked on the side street next to the building.

Once both men were sitting comfortably in the vehicle, it was started and the pair departed to Hannibal's home. Thankfully it wasn't far but by the time car pulled into the dark drive, Will's chin was tucked into his chest and his eyes were closed. Hannibal hated to wake him but he couldn't leave the tired empath in the car all night. Carrying Will in wouldn't do much for the young man's pride either, so the doctor opted for his only choice. He smoothly got out from the driver's side, closed the door and made his way around the side to the passenger seat. The door was opened and gently Hannibal shook Will's shoulder.

"Will, we're here."

It was enough to once more rouse the tired man and he gazed blearily up at the man looming above him before slowly forcing himself up and out of the car. Cold breeze hit his exposed skin with fury and he tightened his grip on the man's jacket which, now that his senses cleared slightly, smelled of Hannibal's rich, albeit slightly sweet cologne. It was nice, pleasant even and enough to make the young man more comfortable as Hannibal led him to his house. He was familiar with the downstairs area of the lavish interior and it occurred to him as he followed Hannibal into the kitchen that he'd never actually been upstairs before. No doubt it was as beautiful as the lower section. The doctors taste was definitely refined when it came to décor and fine cuisine. His dinner parties and lovely office and home were evidence of that.

"Would you like something to eat?" Hannibal asked, lingering by the fridge before he opened it. A glass of wine sounded quite appetising and he set about fetching himself a chilled glass before selecting a bottle of his favourite red wine. He highly doubted that Will would care for more alcohol right now but still offered the young man a glass. He didn't want to be rude. Both food and wine were politely declined. Will was tired and his body cried out for sleep.

Setting the glass and bottle down on the beautiful dark marble counter, Hannibal led Will upstairs and to the second room along the hall. Inside was a modestly furnished bedroom. It was simple; a bed, dresser and mirror. Plain, yet beautiful at the same time.

"This is the guest bedroom. The bathroom is across the hall from you and my bedroom is next door," He gestured to the closed door to his right. "There are pyjamas in the dresser if you want to change. Don't hesitate to ask for anything else if you need it."

Will nodded. He was thankful for simply having a place close by to rest that was close by. Had it not been for Hannibal, he would have been in trouble. Hannibal, meanwhile, bade him good night and went back down stairs, leaving Will to his own devices. These consisted of trotting across to the bathroom to quickly wash his face with cold water, and then head back to the guest room. The door was left slightly ajar as he turned the light off and crept across the plush carpeted floor to the bed. Pulling back the covers, Will sunk down and this time, he did moan. The mattress was perfect and extremely comfortable beneath his suddenly aching body. It was the mixture of warmth, comfort and the scotch that had mixed with the medication he had taken before his previous bed time that had Will's senses dulling and his eyes lulling closed. For the first time in a long while, sleep came swiftly and sweetly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. I got this chapter done so much faster then I thought I would. Thank you to everyone who viewed and favourited my story. I appreciate it.**  
**I hope that you all enjoy this chapter!**

Will awoke from the first dreamless sleep he'd had for weeks slowly. Blinking the sleep from his bleary eyes, the empath sat up, his hand running through his tousled hair. It didn't take him long to remember what he could of last night's events. He'd had another episode and woken up in front of Hannibal's office. The man had taken him in, briefly counselled him, and then bought him home. The rest was a blur.

A sigh of frustration fell from Will's lips. He was tired. Tired of not knowing where he would end up when he went to sleep. Tired of the horrific dreams that had him jerking awake at all hours of the night, doused in sweat. And tired of his so called 'gift'. A gift was something to be prized and treasured, but Will saw little to treasure. It was destroying him physically and mentally and only adding to his dementia. He hated it.

Tired eyes drifted to the small alarm clock that perched next to the bed. 7.30. Time to get up. Swinging his still naked legs over the side of the bed, Will took a moment for his swimming head to settle before he rose and made his way to the door. Before he could even reach the handle though, it opened and Will was presented with an as always elegantly dressed Hannibal Lector. In his arms were a change of clothes, shoes, socks and neatly perched on top, his cell phone. He noted quickly that the doctor had found his favourite plaid shirt. Hannibal must have left early to have gotten to Wolf Trap and back already.

"Good morning, Will." He greeted, a small, warm smile on his lips. He extended his armful to Will who took it gratefully.

"Good morning," Will's voice was still rough from sleep and he cleared it. "And thank you, Hannibal. I appreciate it."

The doctor held up a hand to silence Will's words. "The pleasure is all mine," His smile was still kind as he took a fleeting moment to take in Will's dishevelled and uncharacteristically adorable appearance before stepping back and laying a hand on the door knob. "Breakfast is ready should you want it. A simple omelette. Nothing too heavy."

Will nodded his thanks and waited until the doctor had excused himself before exhaling the breath he had not realised he had been holding. Like the night before, and many times in the past, he'd noticed a strange look in Hannibal's eyes, one he had not been able to recognise. It felt like the doctor was staring into his soul, into his inner depths. It was piercing and it terrified him, but at the same time, made him feel safer then he'd done in a long time. Hannibal was his friend of course. It was natural to feel safe around the man. Wasn't it?

He mulled these thoughts over as he dressed, simply tugging his fresh clothes on over the top of his shirt and briefs. Once his shoes were on and tied, and after a quick toilet break, he made his way downstairs slowly. The smell of cooking eggs and vegetables slammed him hard in the face, but instead of making him hungry, it made his stomach churn with sudden nausea. Swallowing the acidic bile that lingered at the back of his throat, he entered the kitchen. Hannibal looked up from his place at the stove and smiled. It dropped though at the sight of Will's face and became one of slight concern.

"You look pale, Will. Are you alright?" He asked. Turning down the heat on the pan he was currently nursing, he made his way over to the young profiler and before Will could move away, leaned in close. The doctor placed his forehead gently against Will's and held it there, eyes closing in concentration. Will stiffened at the foreign contact, but stayed where he was. He tried to ignore the closeness of the other man, his lingering breath on his lips and the sudden burst of his cologne.

"You're warm," Hannibal murmured, drawing away. His eyes racked over Will's face. The young man looked terrible, if not worse than the night before. "When was the last time you ate, Will?"

As if to avoid answering the question, Will said nothing. His gaze averted and he chose to look at the wall behind Hannibal. What a nice wall it was too…

"William." There was warning in the man's voice and it made Will visibly flinch.

"I don't know." Came the quiet reply.

Hannibal's brows drew together in a frown at this reply. He obviously wasn't happy. "And the last time you drank?" Dehydration would explain the drop in Will's already dulled luster. He was badly lacking food and water. Why Will was denying himself this, and whether or not it was deliberate, the doctor did not know.

Again, the reply given was quiet. "I don't know."

The lack of a decent diet and sufficient water was bad enough, but for someone like Will, the outcome could easily become catastrophic. Hid body and mind were usually under a lot of stress. The added stress of not eating would only serve to make the empath's body give out so much quicker. He was determined to rectify this. Hannibal was not about to lose his 'play thing' from malnourishment. No, he had much more planned for Will Graham.

A hand pressed itself to the small of Will's back and he found himself being led into the doctors' dining room. The table was already immaculately set for two and after sitting will down in his usual place, Hannibal moved back to the kitchen to finish the preparations for the pairs breakfast and Will was left alone to muse. The silence was short lived for Hannibal returned soon enough, two plates skilfully carried on both hands. One he set down in front of Will and the other was placed at the head of the table where he always perched.

Will surveyed the meal before him. Like everything the doctor created, it was beautiful, immaculate. And it made Will feel sick to his stomach. Already he could feel his nausea growing once more and forcefully swallowed it down. Hannibal would not let him go until he'd eaten, both knew that and it was with a shaky hand that the profiler lifted his fork, cut into the omelette and began to eat. Usually Hannibal's meals were a fine treat, something many would strive to be a part of. This time however, the food tasted like ash in Will's mouth. He swallowed forcefully and prided himself on not choking.

"This is delicious." He smiled over at the doctor who was carefully watching him, his own fork making its way to his thin lips as Will spoke. He smiled and obviously pleased that Will was eating, lowered his eyes. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, broken only by the clank of silverware and the occasional dull thud of a glass hitting the table.

Will was only able to make his way through half of the meal before his nausea increased to the point where he could not ignore it. Pale lips parted to excuse himself from the table for a quick bathroom break but before he could so much as utter a single syllable, his phone rang. Will recognised the tone immediately and what it would entail. There was only one reason why Jack Crawford called him these days. Suppressing a shudder, the profiler reached into his pocket to retrieve his bleeping phone and answer it.

"Hello, Jack." He could already predict the outcome of what would no doubt be a brief conversation.

"Will, I need you to come in. We have another body." Jack's voice was sharp and to the point and Will swallowed.

"I'm on my way."

The call ended on Jack's end and Will slipped his phone back into his pocket, face suddenly clammy and cold. A second unfamiliar tone filled the room once more, but it was not Will's phone this time. Hannibal elegantly moved to tug the little device from his own pocket and accept the call. Will did not need to know what it was about. No doubt this was another Ripper case. Why else would Jack call both men in?

Standing, Will silently excused himself and earned a nod from the doctor. Leaving his food forgotten on the table, the empath walked as casually as he could from the dining room and made his way upstairs. He barely made it to the bathroom in time to practically fall into the toilet bowl and harshly regurgitate his freshly eaten breakfast. His throat burned and his eyes watered as he heaved. Thankfully there was little in his stomach and soon he drew back, body shaking and lips quivering. The vile taste in his mouth threatened to make him gag once more and he quickly flushed the remnants of his breakfast away, and then turned to the sink to wash his mouth out. Deep, controlled breaths were taken to try and calm himself down and slowly he looked up into the mirror before him. He hadn't looked at his own reflection for some time and was almost shocked by what he saw. Usually, his handsome face was full, cheek bones high set and jaw nicely chiselled. Now his skin was the colour of bad milk, his lips almost hinted a small tinge of blue and his pupils were dilated. He looked and felt, like shit.

Water was splashed onto his face and a few slaps to his cheeks helped to pink them up a little. He didn't want Alana or Jack questioning him on why he looked unwell. Deeming himself as good as he could look, Will flushed the toilet once more, washed his hands thoroughly, and then headed slowly back downstairs.

Hannibal was already waiting for him, coat tucked under his arm and keys in hand. The table had since been cleared and was immaculate once more. He said nothing as Will joined him. He already knew that Will had been sick and made a mental note to have a word with Jack as Will's doctor. He needed rest and a break from the field.

Silence remained between the pair as they made their way to Hannibal's car and set off to the destination given by Jack.

By the time they arrived at the would-be quaint little farm house that was already surrounded by FBI agents and vehicles, Will's nausea had returned and his dizziness increased. He made sure it did not affect him though as Hannibal pulled up, parked and the pair got out. The metaphorical stench of death hung thickly in the air and Will eyed the little barn next to the house with unease. Agents slipped in and out, one joined by Jack Crawford himself. He spotted the pair and hurried over to them. A lesser agent held up the tape that surrounded the area to allow for Will and Hannibal to enter the scene as Jack began his briefly.

Will was barely listening. While Jack explained the situation to what he thought was both of them, Will made his way towards the building. The smell grew thicker and he didn't bother to prepare himself for what he would find inside.

A body of a man hung from the rafters. A rope was tied securely around his neck and he swung gently from side to side. Will stepped slightly closer, eyes roving slowly over the yellowing skin. There were strips of flesh removed from the thighs, stomach and forearms. A few tattoos littered the body's arms but they remained untouched. From what Will could tell, only untainted skin had been taken and a neatly stitched gash on the torso suggested that, like all of the Rippers previous victims, at least one organ was taken.

The man's eyes he noted were gone. Stuffed into the empty, bleeding sockets were stems of blue tinged purple flowers. Eloquently placed, they fell over the man's cheeks. It would have been beautiful if not for the situation.

Will frowned and drew closer. The flowers had strong value. He was unsure though if the removed skin held any value.

As he gazed at the body, Jack and Hannibal entered the barn behind him. Jack was barking orders and Hannibal passively studied the body in front of Will, face void of emotion.

"Everybody out!" Jack's voice cut through Will's train of thought like a nice and he knew what that would entail. The barn emptied and he was left alone. A moment or two was spent looking at the body before his blue eyes closed. Swinging light filtered through his closed lids and he was gone.

_Will stood in the spotless barn but he was not along. On the ground before him, a man lay bound, gagged and terrified. Looking down, dark hues surveyed the body before him as he stepped forwards. A bag was resting on the hay strewn ground next to him and he knelt slowly, hand dipping into its plain contents. A plastic tipped syringe was pulled out, full of a strange coloured liquid. The man saw this and his struggles increased. Will smiled wide, teeth bearing like a wolfs fangs._

_"I approach the victim and straddle him," He perched himself over the man's hips as he spoke, eyes bright. The struggles grew in force, but from Will's position, he was able to keep him from moving around too much. "I take his arm and inject the full 100 millilitres of poison into his blood stream. It will kill him in minutes."_

_The needle was uncapped and harshly stabbed into the terrified man's forearm. He cried out in pain, body arching off of the ground. It did little good though. The plunger was pushed down and the full dose was injected straight into his system._

_Will removed himself from atop his victim and simply watched. Like a play, it all unfolded before his eyes. The effects were almost instantaneous. In less than a minute, the man was struggling to breathe, his eyes rolled and vomit spewed from his blue lips. His body seized up, legs stiffening and bound arms straining against their bonds. In less than a minute, he was dead._

_Clearly satisfied with the outcome, Will recapped the empty syringe and placed it back in the bag. The rest played out smoothly from the stringing up of the slowly cooling body, to the disembowelment and removal of his skin and eyes. The flowers were the crowning glory and as Will stepped back to admire his work, his smile widened._

_"This is my design."_

Will jerked as he returned to the now. He was certain it was the Ripper now. And he was certain that the flowers held a greater purpose then he first thought. Slowly he turned away and stepped out of the barn. He didn't realise the sweat on his brow, the violent shaking of his body nor the bile that stung his throat and mouth. He didn't even realise that Alana Bloom had arrived and was calling his name. The dizziness that had been so mild before escalated. He couldn't see. His body stung, hot and heavy. His hands shook, his tongue felt thick in his mouth. He couldn't breathe.

Looking up, his blurry eyes gazed up to the three that waited behind the police tape, conversing with one another. Jack and Alana were talking, but Hannibal, Hannibal was staring at Will. And Will stared back. Stared until darkness flooded his vision and he could not see. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thought I'd post this sooner then planned as I've been sick for the last day or two. :( Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up and ready by my birthday next week. It's pretty short. The net one will be much longer. Enjoy!**

-

Hannibal stared at Will's departing back as the young man made his way towards the barn's entrance and finally disappeared in. Jack was still talking animatedly to him and he was forced to focus back on the man.

"There's something different about this one," There was strain in Jack's voice. "The Ripper's never used flowers before. Why now?"

A thoughtful look bloomed on Hannibal's striking features. "Every flower has a meaning, Jack. It's highly possible that the killer is trying to convey a hidden message."

Jack was silent now. A hidden message. This certainly could spell out trouble. Naturally he would take Hannibal's advice and find out exactly what the offending flower meant.

The pair re-entered the crime scene and Hannibal was finally granted what Jack though was his first look at the victim. He moved next to Will who was already putting together the pieces and began his own evaluation. There was definitely a message here. But as to whom it was directed at, that was at the moment, unclear. Hannibal however was unable to tell Will of this as Jack already ordered himself and the rest of the FBI agents out so Will could do what he do best. Quietly, but begrudgingly, the doctor obeyed and made his way outside, Jack on his heels.

The arrival of an all too familiar car piqued his interest as he neared the crime scenes boundaries. Alana Bloom stepped out looking as lovely as ever and quickly approached the pair. She wore a look of exhaustion and frustration.

"Is it the Ripper?" Straight to the point as always. That was one of the things Hannibal truly liked about Alana.

"We don't know yet. Some of the methods are the same, but there are some we haven't seen before." Jack replied, running a hand over his short hair.

Alana exhaled quietly, and then turned her warm gaze to Hannibal. She smiled.

"Hello, Doctor Lector."

"Good morning, Doctor Bloom." The smile was returned.

Alana turned her attention back to Jack and the pair began discussing the case and the crime scene. Hannibal meanwhile appeared to be listening, but in truth he was lost in his own thoughts. He wanted to be with Will. He wanted to see just what happened when the pendulum started to swing. Every part of him intrigued the doctor and he wanted to know and to see everything that Will Graham had to offer. Already the young profiler was fast becoming putty in his hands. He was so delightfully impressionable, so easy to pursue. Just what would he make of the Rippers latest piece of work? Will would work it out easily enough, of course. The young man was extremely clever and already the doctor was thinking ways, new methods and the possibility of using new blooms in the future. It all depended on how Will would take the new case.

Hannibal did not have to wait long to find out his reply. Will emerged from the barn but a few minutes later and the moment that he did, Hannibal could see that something was wrong. He was used to Will looking slightly off, even peaky from his little out of mind trips, but not to this extent. Even from the distance, he could see that Will's face was chalk white. He appeared to be finding it difficult to walk and the doctor turned fully. Alana called out Will's name and beckoned him over. Apparently, she could not see what Hannibal could see. Her conversation with Jack was very abruptly cut short when a flash of pinstriped navy shot past her. Both agents turned just in time to see Will fall. He hit the ground with a hard thud and lay there, motionless. He made no move to get up. Hannibal was already by his side and had the younger in his arms and off of the cold ground.

"He's unconscious," He murmured, hand pressing itself to Will's forehead. The empath was quivering, his face drenched in cold sweat, yet incredible heat radiated from his body. "Alana, call an ambulance please. He is severely dehydrated and needs fluids."

Alana was on the phone in moments while Jack stood next to the trio. He wrung his hands nervously, eyes skittering over Will's limp frame, his white skin and blue lips.

"This didn't happen overnight, did it, Doctor?" He asked, obviously catching on quickly.

Hannibal shook his head and ever so slightly tugged Will closer to him. The man was freezing and needed to get warm soon. "He had an episode last night and ended up at my office. He told me he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten or drank properly," Hannibal lifted his head, piercing sanguine eyes staring Jack down. "As his doctor, I highly recommend that Will takes a break from the field. He needs rest, Jack. He needs to recuperate."

Alana meanwhile had finished with her call and now knelt down beside Will. She touched his cheek. "He's freezing," She too looked at Jack, the gentleness gone from her face and replaced by one of pure curtness. "I told you this would happen if you kept forcing him to do this, Jack. I _told_ you." The young doctor rose from her spot next to the pair on the ground. Even though she was shorter, she towered over Jack, who now looked aggravated.

"I gave him the opportunity, Alana. He denied it. Said he was fine. How was I supposed to know he hasn't been eating?

Alana glared hard, hand gesturing at Will's limp frame. "Jack, just look at him! He's a wreck. You knew he was unwell, yet you kept pushing him and pushing him and now look what's happened!"

Jack groaned but smartly kept his next bout of words to himself. He knew that Alana was right. Will wouldn't have told him that he was unwell anyway. He had to escalate to this for him to see past the Ripper cases. Thankfully any other future arguments were stemmed by the hasty arrival of the ambulance. Hannibal stood as best he could and with barely any effort, lifted Will.

The ambulance reversed slowly towards the pair and in less than a few minutes, Will was safely on a stretcher and inside. Hannibal went with him, leaving Alana and Jack alone. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, here we are; the next chapter. Take it as a birthday gift to myself for all of you. :) I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed and watched my story and to add that I have been sick of late, all spelling errors in previous chapters will be fixed and that I am currently working without the aid of a beta. I think I need one. I hope that you all enjoy the chapter.**

_Snow fell gently down, coating the forest and the surrounding area with a pure white blanket. The wind was non-existent. There was no sound. No birds. No animals. The only sound to penetrate the almost deafening silence was the soft thud of footsteps muffled by thick snow. A figure trudged his way through the thick, his destination unknown. Little white puffs had already settled in his curly dark hair and continued to land on his broad shoulders and on the tip of his pink tinged nose. Glasses had frosted over the moment the cold touched them and now resided safely in the pocket of his plaid shirt._

_Will Graham was not cold as he walked. No pale cloud of air expelled itself from his nose or lips when he exhaled. He did not know where he was, yet the forest was familiar. He knew that this was another dream, but unlike most, he felt safe. There was no blood, no death. No ghostly figures that loomed out of the darkness to drag him down screaming. His aimless wandering gave him time to think for once in peace. About Hannibal, Alana, Abigail and even her father. He shied away from that topic though. Garret Jacob Hobs was one of the beings that most often haunted his visions and had him waking up in fits of terror. This time though, he did not appear and for that, Will was grateful._

_He stopped and took a moment to look in front of him. There was nothing but snow, trees and moonless sky. The silence was soon broken again, seemingly out of nowhere, but it was not by his hand. Gentle, albeit even footsteps could be heard behind him, yet Will did not turn. He knew what he was. He could smell it, feel it, and taste it in the air._

_Something touched his cheek and he turned, shuddering into it. A tall creature now stood before him, all arms, legs and antlers. Eyes as black as satin stared down at him and Will smiled. There was something familiar about the creatures. He knew what it was. The face of the Wendigo had since changed from being that of one he did not recognise, to one that he held in very high regard; Hannibal._

_Cold fingers still lingered on his cheek and still Will leaned into them. The touch was not unpleasant, despite the coolness and he found his eyes slowly closing. He did not have to see to know that the horned creature was bending toward him. Breath lingered over his face and his lips parted, only to have a foreign pair press against them._

_His eyes opened and he found himself face to face with not the Wendigo, but Hannibal himself. The doctors own dark eyes were focused completely on Will's and the empath could feel a smile tugging at the other man's lips._

_The kiss did not last long. Hannibal was the first to pull away, though he remained close and Will could feel the others mouth move against his own as he spoke._

_"It's time to wake up, William."_

The voice echoed thickly around his head. It was distorted and the more he regained consciousness, replaced by a constant, dull beeping. He swallowed, but his throat felt swollen and made it difficult.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he winced as light hit them. Something was off. The last thing he remembered was flowers and missing eyes.

A pained moan sounded and he caught movement out of his peripheral vision. A voice, definitely not that of Hannibal spoke to him.

"Will? Will, you are alright?"

It was nice and slowly Will turned his head, eyes trying to focus on the hazy form.

"Alana! He's waking up."

Another shadow joined him on his other side and thankfully his vision was able to pick up on kind eyes and dark hair.

"Alana?" It felt like he hadn't drunk in weeks. His throat was hoarse, raw and painful and his left arm ached terribly. His eyes though seemed to finally have adjusted and he turned to the figure to his left. "Abigail."

Both women were smiling at him and Abigail was stroking his hand.

"You're in the hospital, Will." Alana murmured, sitting down in a little chair next to him.

Hospital? That would explain the beeping, the horrible smell of disinfectant and, he gazed down to the hand that Abigail held and spotted an IV drip, the dull throb travelling up his arm. He frowned slightly, mind still tying it piece together just what had happened. He couldn't remember, but the fact that he was in the hospital meant that something was wrong.

His free hand lifted slowly to run across his forehead and push the messy curls away. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Now it was Abigail's turn to speak. She sounded tired and as he looked at her, got the feeling that during said three days, she'd not left his side. "Do you remember what happened?"

Will frowned, mind still trying to piece together the few fractured memories that he had of the previous days. He shook his head. "I remember getting a call from Jack. I remember the barn," Try as he might, he couldn't remember what had happened after that.

"You blacked out. Hannibal said you hadn't been eating or drinking," Alana's voice was quiet as she spoke, harbouring an obvious hurt. "You nearly died, Will."

Will said nothing as he fully lay back. He knew that he had been unwell, but not to that extent. It was difficult to care for one's self when you had nightmares that were so vivid, it made it near impossible to eat. Guilt bloomed in his chest and he tightened his grip slightly on Abigail's hand, ignoring the ache from the drip.

"I'm sorry."

Alana nodded and Abigail weakly smiled. Both forgave him for both knew the trauma he had been forced to deal with and neither would hold it against him.

Silence reigned through the room as both women had nothing to say and Will found it too painful to talk. His thumb stroked over his foster daughters hand, hoping it would comfort her. She honestly looked like she'd had a distraught few days. Alana too looked tired and Will had the slight suspicion that both had been there to care for him while he'd been out. The silence was pleasant for all three, but short lived.

The door to the room slid open. Will's eyes opened, which had since closed and all three of the rooms occupants looked over. Hannibal stood there, immaculately dressed as always and coat tucked under his arm. A small smile blossomed over his face when he saw that Will was conscious and he approached the bed.

"It's good to see you awake, Will. How do you feel?"

"Groggy and a little sore, but better, thank you." At least his nausea had significantly calmed.

Hannibal was obviously happy with the reply as he spread his coat over the back of a spare chair and moved to stand behind Alana. The young agent rose however. Abigail followed suit, carefully releasing Will's hand as she did.

"Now that you're awake and Doctor Lector's here, I think it's best that we head off. Both of us could use a decent sleep." Alana lifted a hand to stifle an unexpected yawn and she tossed an apologetic look to Hannibal. He only smiled.

"Of course. Thank you for looking after Will." Hannibal bowed his head slightly in thanks to Alana and embraced Abigail gently. Will waved his drip free hand before both women left the room. The door shut quietly behind them and both doctor and patient were left alone.

Hannibal pulled the seat that Alana had previously been occupying closer to Will's bed and sat down. Legs crossed and Hannibal's gaze fell on the young man before him. It was Will that broke the silence this time.

"Any word on the new victim?"

Hannibal nodded. "Quite a few, actually. Jack was convinced it was the Ripper. On the outside, the methods seemed to be somewhat similar to his previous victims. The inside though is quite different and now, well, we aren't so sure," The doctor paused, keen eyes staring firmly into Will's grey ones. "What did you see when you were in there, Will?"

Will paused, but he already knew that trying to remember was a fruitless act. "I can't remember." He replied finally, slowly shimmying his way up in the bed to make himself more comfortable. "Is it the Ripper, or isn't it?" There had to be a reason why Hannibal had questioned what he'd seen.

"At first the M.E believed that asphyxiation was the cause of death. It wasn't. Some organs were taken; the heart, lungs and some portions of skin and muscle. The bodies positioning was as usually theatrical as the Ripper's other victims. The only thing that is different is what was used to kill him.

Will's gaze drew away from Hannibal. The flowers. He remembered them vaguely. So he'd been right in thinking they played a more significant part then just decoration.

"The organs were removed after death?"

Once more, Hannibal nodded. "Yes."

"If he didn't die from asphyxiation, then how?"

"Aconitum poisoning."

A dark brow rose and Hannibal, judging by the look on Will's face, knew that he would have to break it down a lot more.

"The flowers that were inserted into his eye sockets are Aconitum, or in the more common tongue, Wolf's Bane. It is a bloom native to the northern hemisphere and is extremely toxic to humans."

"So, his eyes were removed and the flowers inserted to kill him." Even that seemed a little hard for Will to believe. Thankfully, Hannibal was able to clarify.

"The eyes and the organs were removed post mortem, which makes us think that this isn't the Ripper. The toxicology report showed that there was more of the plant in his system, enough to cause paralysis of the heart and respiratory system. He would have died in under a minute or two."

Will was speechless. He was unable to say anything until Hannibal had passed him a fresh bottle of water that sat beside his bed and several mouthfuls were taken. It helped to relax his throat as he cleared it.

"What part do the flowers play?" He asked, fingers curling around the bottle slowly.

"A message, though we aren't sure to whom the message is directed at."

"And what's the message?"

"Every flower has a meaning, Will. Most are sentimental. Some are not. Wolf's Bane, as you've probably already guessed, has a darker definition. Literally translated, it means 'Beware; a deadly foe is near.'"

For several minutes, Will was silent, apparently deep in thought. His hands tightened slightly on the plastic bottle in his hands and his gaze turned back to Hannibal.

"It's me. The message is for _me_."

Two days of being on the drip and forced to eat terrible hospital food and finally, Will was deemed fit enough to leave. It had already been discussed and although Will had objected, there was little he could do. Hannibal was adamant that Will stay with him so he could monitor him and make sure he was actually eating on a regular basis.

It was begrudgingly that Will accepted the offer and later on that night, he found himself once more in Hannibal's home. The spare room had already been set up for his arrival the previous day and had everything he could need. Will however, was not happy. He wanted to go home. He missed the privacy and being able to tinker on his boats or go fishing. He missed his dogs, and even though he knew that Hannibal had organised someone to care for them, he still held slight resentment towards the man, despite his kindness.

The evening passed without much incident. Already the team had figured out that the latest victim was not one of the Ripper. Another apparent copycat had made himself known and Will was trying to rack his tired brain around the whole thing. Already there had been a previous copycat killer, not to mention several new murderers now using colourful and adventures ways to humiliate their victims. It was like the Ripper had given every other murderer and psychopath in the area the courage to do more than simply stab and run. Thankfully though their newest killer, colourfully dubbed 'The Flower Man' by Price and Zeller, had yet to claim another victim.

Will had been given the reports from the M.E to go over, though Hannibal was reluctant to let him have them. He wanted Will to rest and recover. The young profiler was stubborn though and in the end, his stubbornness won over.

Now he sat at Hannibal's currently empty dining table, papers and files scattered over it's surface and a deep frown on his face. Hannibal was in the kitchen preparing the couples dinner, so it gave Will time alone to think. There wold be more victims, of that he was certain. Why go to such lengths to convey a message and only leave one?

Tired and still feeling the effects of the drugs he'd been sedated with while in the hospital, Will gave up when Hannibal entered the room, two white bowls balanced perfectly on one arm. He waited for Will to messily clear up the papers before he set one down before the young man. Will stared down at his bowl and its contents. It was so… plain. A questioning look was given to the doctor who smiled as he sat down in his usual place at the head of the table.

"I know that your stomach is still tender, so I thought a simple meal would be best."

Will nodded slowly and once more regarded his own bowl. He didn't need to question what it was and for once, Hannibal did not give an explanation. The delicious fragrance and lovely orange tone of the soup was enough. Will knew that although the meal looked plain, it would taste amazing. And he was right. The first spoonful was almost nervously swallowed and the sweet flavour of the soup exploded in his mouth. Even for a novice palate such as his own, he could taste each individual ingredient and spice that had been used.

"This is amazing."

Hannibal, who had been watching Will for any signs of sickness, smiled and began to eat himself.

"I am glad you like it. There is plenty more should you want it."

Will nodded, silent as he ate and thankful that the food wasn't making him sick. Perhaps it was the days of hospital food that had him craving something much more refined. Luckily for him, Hannibal was very refined.

Hannibal broke the silence soon enough, his spoon hanging just over his bowl. "What's your take on the new killer?"

Will swallowed his mouthful before lowering his own spoon and carefully fixing Hannibal with a guarded look.

"It's not the Ripper, that I'm certain." He replied.

"So, it's a copycat?"

"I don't know. There are so many similarities and yet so few. The Ripper had never tried to send a message like this before," Will's frown had reappeared as he spoke. The message. He'd been thinking about it for the past day or two. Beware. Beware of whom? Certainly the Ripper was dangerous and his messages were small and subtle. This was blatant though, an obvious thing. There was more reason behind it, Will knew, but he couldn't figure out what.

His inner thoughts must have been playing on his face for Hannibal cleared his throat suddenly. It was enough to tug Will from his thoughts and he meekly apologised. The rest of the pairs meal was finished in complete silence.


End file.
